


as i am

by accrues



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Car Sex, Cunnilingus, F/M, International Women's Day, Piano Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Purple Prose, Reveal, Vaginal Fingering, Wall Sex, Wing Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2019-03-31 17:26:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13979958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/accrues/pseuds/accrues
Summary: A brief series of "five times" pornisodes where Chloe gets some good diligent attention from Lucifer. Somehow plot slid in there but it's mostly about porn.Sickly sweet and hopefully hot.





	as i am

**Author's Note:**

  * For [triskelia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/triskelia/gifts).



> Inspired by IWD because we tend not to get much detailed female pleasure (or maybe I just read too much slash).
> 
> Thanks to triskelia who inspired this whole thing. There really isn't enough wall sex where Lucifer just effortlessly holds up Chloe.
> 
> Title from Angels by The xx. I listened to [this mix](http://gated.tumblr.com/post/156796495455/interlude-my-chemical-romance-saints-protect-her) while I was writing. ~~/shameless self promotion~~.

1.

‘Lucifer,’ Chloe’s lips are mouthing tiny kitten licks at the corded muscle of Lucifer’s neck, her legs wrapped firmly around his hips. ‘Fuck, Lucifer, you- oh _God_ -’

He pauses and then hitches her up against his stomach for a second. Her back hits the stone wall, and then he has her sliding down, filling her and the angle is so _weird_ and _different_. She’s never done this before, not like _this_ , where all of her weight is on his arms, and her ankles are kicked together holding on _tight_ like she’s just along for the ride.

How he’s managing this she doesn’t know, doesn’t _care_ , because her naked back scrapes against the wall and it’s cold and a little painful but really damn good, and his eyes are on her breasts and she doesn’t want it to ever stop.

She’s seen him hold a man up by one hand, and this is not even close to that level of effort. He’s just that damn strong.

‘Detective,’ he breathes, and she shivers and twitches her hips a little - because she can - which amounts to a small hitch in his breath but nothing else. God, pelvic floor exercises would come in goddamn handy right now, and she tries, she _does_ , curling herself around him so he’s sealed inside her. _Mine_ , she thinks. 

For now.

They’re breathing together, her head is resting forward a little now, the exertion and the sheer pleasure of what’s happening making her woozy. His hands are on her hips and god but she wishes they were on her tits but this is good, she’ll take this, too.

‘Lucifer,’ she pants, ‘yes,’ and his skin tastes good when she sucks at his jaw, her breasts hang heavy with her curled position and they hurt just a little bit with arousal.

‘Yes,’ he agrees, breath puffing against her hair. ‘Yes.’

 

2\. 

His mouth is on her cunt and she doesn’t know how she’s keeping so quiet, it’s the worst goddamn idea in the goddamn world but she doesn’t want to say no, doesn’t know if she _could_ say no even if she tried. Legs spread as the seat tilts back, his knees hard on the concrete as she pushes up into a bridge for his access. 

‘Shit, Lucifer, feels so goddamn good,’ he licks, tongue as wickedly clever as it is when he talks, and she convulses around it as he probes further inside her. He must be soaking wet by now and she can’t bring herself to care.

He _hums_ and she almost loses it altogether, hips hitching upwards. Her arms are aching from the position but god, _yes_ , this is worth it. 

Distantly a car door slams and she shudders - they could get caught, oh _god_ they could get caught, she can just imagine the Lieutenant’s face, but- she hitches her hips again and he sucks a little and

‘ _Fuck_ ,’ she whimpers, ‘ _Lucifer_!’

The Corvette rocks a little when he shifts position to forge further between her legs, his stubble a little too close to her skin for comfort but his tongue making up the difference.

She almost screams when the whiteness takes her, and he huffs a laugh that she assumes is to do with her wetness but god she doesn’t care, can’t care, won’t care.

Not right now.

 

3.

The piano is a lot more sturdy than she had first imagined, with its shiny black finish and three twig-sized legs. But Lucifer is inside her, and she wants to scream because she’s still handling this whole _Devil_ thing, like he hadn’t told her a million times, but it’s still so new, so-

He thrusts forward and she claws at the piano’s lid, fingers not finding traction, scraping at gloss while she flails and she loses herself. 

‘Show me,’ she whispers, as he thrusts backwards and forwards, curled over her in a possessive pose, straddling her. ‘Show me.’

‘Darling,’ he groans, and she shakes her head, biting at her lip even as the pleasure rises. 

‘Show me,’ she insists, and then they’re out- her avenging angel above her as she lays spread on the Devil’s piano, those big wide wings that could stop the world and keep her safe no matter what.

‘Lucifer,’ she whimpers as he slams home, those big wings fluttering a little in his excitement. ‘ _Lucifer_ -’

‘Yes,’ he agrees, big dark eyes staring into hers, hair just a little mussed. Her back is a little sticky against the piano and it pinches slightly as she rocks. It’s not perfect.

Nothing is, but it’s as close as she’d dare dream.

He’s her devil, and she’s keeping him by her side.

 

4\. 

Lucifer’s mouth is on hers, tongue pressing deep inside, warm and delicate. It swipes the roof of her mouth and she groans as she sucks deep, licks against him. 

His fingers, clever and long, pianists fingers - _dexterous_ and _how_ \- scissor within her and she’s twitching her hips, squeezing her thighs around his wrist compulsively. He moves in time, his tongue swiping, his fingers twisting, playing her like an instrument - the cliché she never would admit but for, _god_ , she can see why they lined up for this.

She presses harder against him, rocking a little on his fingers - the angle must be _killing_ him - as he spreads out on the couch. It’s thrilling to have him under her, to have his fingers moving for her and her mouth on his. 

Chloe pulls her head back a little just to look, to feel, the breathe him in and enjoy the rush of blood to her cheeks when she sees him looking back.

He’s always looked at her like that, she realises, even before he truly valued her as a human and not just a new toy to play with. He’s the devil he always was and she has lost her blinders.

‘Lucifer,’ she whispers, secretive and heated. The fire on his balcony flickers in her peripheral vision and he smirks a little.

‘The devil himself,’ he agrees, and his eyes mimic the flames for a brief moment.

‘I love you,’ she whispers, a secret, a wish, a care.

‘I love you too.’

It’s a promise.

 

5\. 

His mouth moves along her sternum, hot and warm and soft, his hands either side of his face, thumbs rubbing gentle circles against her breasts. She sprawls, spread out and half-dressed on the rug. It’s warm in the spring night and just about perfect.

She’s just a little buzzed with wine, just a little on the edge of tipsy and warm, and it’s just _nice_ , just safe and warm and gentle with his mouth on her skin, the smell of vanilla and spice in the air from a candle she left on after dinner. 

Dan has Trixie and they’re _home_ , in this _house_ , _their_ house and it’s perfect because his home is her and she is happy to keep him.

‘Detective,’ he murmurs against her skin and she chokes back a laugh at the old nickname. 

‘Lucifer,’ she chides, ‘you promised.’

‘So I did, darling.’ He rasps the stubble on his chin against her chest and she growls playfully. ‘Chloe,’ the word is as careful as it ever has been, gentle and reverent like he doesn’t have the right to it. Like a prayer, like she’s the only one worth praying to.

‘Please,’ she asks, and his hand works its way down, pinching and rubbing against her hip until he finds her fly.

One stroke against her clit and she shudders, just as turned on as ever with him, just as fresh as it was that first day.

‘Now now,’ he says, grinning at her, ‘not too much foreplay or we’ll never make it to the bedroom.’

‘Lucifer,’ she hisses, as one finger dips just deep enough to send shocks through her. ‘Damn the bed.’

‘Would if I could,’ he agrees amicably, and goes back to torturing her, mouth on one nipple and working it to firm hardness from where the peaks had been gently forming, then swapping to the other.

The finger just keeps stroking, still just teasing, not quite far enough to be properly inside her, and she groans and bucks up against him a little.

‘But thou contracted to thine own bright eyes,’ Lucifer recites gently into her skin, like a dictation on canvas, ‘feed’st thy light’s flame with self-substantial fuel.’ 

‘Lucifer,’ she whispers, the words too heavy for her to bear, too ancient and edged in ice in this moment.

He smiles, a twist, a quirk to his lips. ‘Or shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?’

‘No Shakespeare,’ she gasps, squirming beneath him, and he nods ponderously.

‘We don’t need him,’ he agrees. ‘This is poetry itself.’

His finger slides inside and she’s slick for him, inviting, until it hits home.

Yes. Home.

 

+1

Lucifer is a generous lover. Chloe knew that, she did, knew that the man she loved would give the time and attention she needed to hit every high.

Knowing that and experiencing it were two absolutely different things.

He’s lined up inside her, rocking forward while she wraps her legs around his hips, moving in a dance they’ve perfectly choreographed. His gaze is on her, watching her every twitch and gasp. She could feel like an insect under that ancient, powerful - beyond powerful - stare but she _doesn’t_.

She feels loved.

She feels _complete_ , feels whole, in a way that even Dan, even at their best of times never reached. 

It wasn’t his fault- there was something waiting, and now she’s found it.

They’re here in their wedding bed, and he’s warm and lithe and deep within her, spreading deep as she shudders with the feeling, shaking with orgasm.

And it patters like a tattoo on her heart, this absolute love and rightness.

It’s a gift from God, words that will never cross her lips but also hardly leave her mind. He’s _hers_ , however he came to her. And this is where they were always intended to be.

Yes. Now. Hers. _Promise_. Home.

His.

**Author's Note:**

> The poem is Shakespeare's 1st sonnet.


End file.
